


À la prochaine

by circlique



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical, Historical Hetalia, M/M, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circlique/pseuds/circlique
Summary: Considering he and Francis have lived through war after war, Arthur is relatively unconcerned by Germany's recent aggression. When France is suddenly overrun by the Germans, however, Arthur realizes this war will be unlike anything he's ever seen.Essentially a WWII FrUK play-by-play.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> À la prochaine = Until next time

**April 11, 1940**

Normally, Arthur wouldn’t have been much for wine, but the times were beginning to weigh rather heavily on him now. He hadn’t been paying attention when Francis ordered, so he wasn’t exactly sure what kind it was, though it shone a dark red—like blood—in the soft light of the seaside restaurant. He took a wary sip, and the muted, semi-sweet taste of fruit bloomed across his tongue, quickly followed by the tang of alcohol. Across from him, Francis was staring silently down at the nearly untouched food on his plate.

 He glanced out the window. Beyond the docks of Calais, the faint lights of distant ships glided slowly across the water. The ships, bound for the front in Norway, were carrying British and French soldiers. Ever since the Germans had invaded Poland, Arthur and Francis had been forced to work together more than ever. They had declared war the same day, were sending soldiers to the same places—as much as he hated to admit it, Arthur knew that in this moment, Francis was his greatest ally.

If only, he wished, he didn’t have to spend these depressing, tension-filled days travelling across the strait to spend time listening to Francis’s doom and gloom.

“I fear I may be next, you know,” Francis sighed across the table. There were dark circles under his tired eyes. “There are rumors that the Germans are gathering their forces for an invasion of the Netherlands, Belgium, and France next.”

“Honestly, I’m not surprised,” Arthur replied flatly, taking another sip. The alcohol tingled in the back of his throat, which he cleared a moment later. “They’re growing more confident. You saw how quickly Denmark fell.”

“Not even enough time to call for help,” Francis muttered, recalling the news that Denmark had been so overwhelmed by the German forces that the country had been forced to surrender after only two hours. “I hope, at least, that Norway can be saved.”

“As do I,” Arthur agreed with a slight nod, sounding less genuine than he’d meant to. “You’re lucky. You’ve had time to prepare.”

Francis was silent, his eyes gazing at the flickering lights out on the strait.

“Christ, France, you look like you’ve given up already,” Arthur keened. “It’s just another war. You’ve lived through plenty. You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Francis scoffed, meeting Arthur’s eyes with an annoyed glance. “You’re safe across the strait.”

“What does the strait have to do with it?” Arthur growled, stabbing into his steak with a fork. “You think if Germany really wants to have me the water is going to stop him from trying? Did it stop him from invading Norway?”

“Well, maybe you should listen to yourself,” Francis said with a snort. “And maybe then you’ll see that the determination he possesses is why I’m not looking forward to  _just another war_.”

“Oh, please—”

“ _Angleterre,”_ Francis interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We thought the last war was ‘the war to end all wars.’ And here we are on the edge of another. Think of the improvements to aircraft, to guns. How much worse will it be this time around?”

Arthur held Francis’s gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowed in indignation. Then, he looked away with a huff. “If it were easy to kill someone as insufferable as you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Quit worrying.”

Francis continued to stare at him for a moment before looking out across the water once more.

“I suppose.”


	2. Chapter 2

**May 10, 1940**

Arthur jolted awake to the frantic ringing of his bedside phone. No call at this hour could be good. Heart pounding, he groped through the darkness until his hand fell on the handset. He brought it to his ear, listening as a breathless voice informed him that the Germans had taken Luxembourg and were already pushing into Belgium and the Netherlands. Arthur hung up the phone. Over the past few weeks, this very scenario had played out in his head a hundred times. Within minutes, he had packed a small trunk with uniforms, spare socks, and underwear, and was striding out the door.

                The next few hours were spent riding trains, boats, and finally, a Jeep. He arrived in the Belgian countryside the next afternoon and quickly hurried toward the primitive camp that had been set up there.

He did not know much about the situation. All he knew was that he had been deployed with the British Expeditionary Force somewhere near Brussels. Still hauling his trunk, he quickly flagged down a young man—who couldn’t have been more than 17—and asked him who was in charge. The boy pointed to a tent beyond a cluster of trees, and Arthur hurried in that direction.

Lord Gort was a man who had clearly seen his fair share of war. It was written into every essence of his being—from the way he held himself to the slightly sagging look of quiet concern that seemed etched into his face as he discussed the current situation with the assortment of officers and non-commissioned officers surrounding him.

“Ah, yes,” he said when Arthur introduced himself, looking up from the array of maps strewn across the rickety folding table he was using as a desk. “I was told to expect your arrival, Mr. Kirkland.”

Lord Gort quickly filled him in on the situation. The Germans had arrived at the Belgian border and encountered the Belgian army. The British had been expecting it to take the Germans several weeks to punch their way far enough into the country to take a shot at Brussels, but within the first 24 hours it had become apparent that the Germans had far more airpower than the Belgians could possibly hope to counter. Any position the Belgians held was quickly bombed to bits, and now they were withdrawing inward, toward the British position. This posed a problem, as the British forces had not had enough time to fully secure the area. The trenches were still being dug, and some of the artillery had not yet been placed in its final position.

“We’ll get you all set up,” Lord Gort told him, and directed him towards a Sergeant, who took him to another tent to get him equipped with a gun, ammunition, and other supplies.

“You’ll probably see some action soon,” the Sergeant said, cocking his head to the east.

The adrenaline-induced panic that had fueled Arthur since the moment he’d awoke quickly faded once he realized he would not, in fact, see any action soon. It took several days for Arthur to see a true sign of the advancing German force. His first few days with the British Expeditionary Force were spent digging trenches. For hours, he heaved shovelful after shovelful of dark, peaty Belgian dirt out of the ground and over his shoulder. He had initially been annoyed by the boredom of digging for hours, but he found himself digging faster as each passing day brought the sound of distant shells closer.  Though the trench he dug in grew steadily deeper, it was clear it would not be deep enough to offer any significant protection by the time the Germans arrived. By his fifth day, the sound of artillery had grown so close he could feel the ground vibrate occasionally. Royal Air Force sorties flew so low over his head that he knew the Germans couldn’t be more than a few miles away by now.

On the sixth day, the first German units came within range of the British artillery. Arthur, having been assigned to a trench, could do little more than watch the shells fall on the open plains ahead of him, throwing up showers of dirt.

He hadn’t fired his gun a single time when the news finally trickled into his trench.

“We’re being ordered to withdraw,” some Captain was saying.

“What?” Arthur asked incredulously. “They’re not even bloody close enough to shoot at yet!”

“The problem’s not here,” the Captain went on. “The higher-ups are worried the German forces south of here will flank us. They’re moving the French and Belgian forces too.”

In the end, Arthur had no choice but to follow. Tents were torn down, trunks were hastily packed, and within hours, they were marching west into the Belgian forest.

“Ridiculous…” Arthur muttered to himself.

* * *

 

Arthur knew he shouldn’t be so judgmental of the leadership. After all, he did not know everything. He wasn’t in command here, so he got precious little more information than the average soldier did. Yet, he felt cheated, because he didn’t have to be here. He could have stayed home, watching the war from afar and making sure his own home was ready to handle a German air attack. But he’d wanted to be here among his own soldiers. Some paranoid urge had drawn him here.

It was something Francis had said, he realized.

_Think of the improvements to aircraft, to guns. How much worse will it be this time around?_

Yes, how much worse could it be? The truth was, he wouldn’t know unless he saw it for himself. And if it was worse than the bloody massacre that was trench warfare in the last World War, he wanted to do whatever he could to keep that horror from reaching his own home. He believed what he’d told Francis that night. If Germany really wanted to invade the British Isles, the Strait would be little more than a trickle of water running down a London street.

Assuming the Germans could reach the coast, that was.

Sharp pops of gunfire began to pepper the British forces as the Germans gradually caught up to them in their armored vehicles. The British units quickly fell into formations, one providing cover fire as the others continued to move forward, then retreating themselves. This went on for hours. Arthur was convinced his shots weren’t hitting anything. It wasn’t all bad though, because he hadn’t seen a single British soldier get hit either.

As night fell, the gunfire all but stopped. Both forces continued to move, but fewer bullets were wasted on shots that were even less likely to hit in the dark. The British even began to gain some distance as the German vehicles struggled to navigate the primitive roads in the inky night.

Arthur was exhausted. Between the short bursts of adrenaline as his unit provided cover fire and the long trudges through the trees, there had been no time to rest. By the time the sun began to illuminate the landscape, Arthur could see his tiredness reflected in the dark circles under all his comrades’ eyes.

Now, he noticed, there were also some new faces. A unit he hadn’t noticed before? No, these new faces were accompanied by new uniforms in new colors. This was not a British unit, he realized. Another force had joined up with them during the night. He continued to scan, and finally, among all the new faces, he managed to pick out a familiar one.

The new soldiers were French, and marching along with them was Francis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I managed to update in a relatively short amount of time! Let's see if I can keep it up.
> 
> A few historical notes:
> 
> -The invasion of Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands began the evening of May 9, 1940.  
> -German airpower was really decisive in their quick advancements.   
> -The British Expeditionary Force and French First Army (both placed near Brussels, Belgium) saw relatively little combat early on in the invasion, as the big part of the German push was further to the south (where Belgium is relatively narrow geographically, meaning it would take less time to get to France).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another FrUK fic! I've always wanted to write WWII FrUK and I'm finally getting around to it. This shouldn't be too long, but I'm not sure how many chapters yet. Maybe four or five. Enjoy!


End file.
